


Yaru

by Branch



Series: Yaru [5]
Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: Drama, M/M, Porn, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branch/pseuds/Branch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Tezuka's first year of college, and Ryouma's second year of high school, Ryouma tracks Tezuka down again and they edge into a relationship not based on the tennis club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kunimitsu remembered that it had taken less than a month from the time he started high school to the day Echizen Ryouma had come to find him. He was not, therefore, entirely surprised to see Echizen now, not quite two months into Kunimitsu’s university studies. Echizen’s expression also bore a remarkable resemblance to the one he had worn on the previous occasion–a flash of uncertainty muffled under sardonic indifference.

What was odd was that Echizen had sought him out in this place.

Kunimitsu favored this particular outcropping because it was a bit off the main walking trails. After a pleasant, if thoroughly untaxing, walk up, it was nice to appreciate the view somewhere apart from the chattering families and shouting children. Someone had to have told Echizen how to find it, and as soon as Kunimitsu found out that it had been Fuji he was going to have some words with his friend. He preferred not to be disturbed, up here.

“Echizen,” he said, neither welcoming nor rejecting.

Echizen had gotten fairly adept at reading him, over the years, and Kunimitsu was sure he understood the nuance. After a moment of hesitation, though, Echizen picked his way through the underbrush to the span of smooth, sunny rock where Kunimitsu sat and perched beside him. Kunimitsu contemplated his body language. Echizen was slightly less than arm’s length away, arms wrapped around drawn up knees, chin tucked down. He wasn’t looking at Kunimitsu at all. Kunimitsu didn’t think he’d ever seen Echizen telegraph uncertainty so strongly.

“Do you like the view of the city from up here?” he asked, quietly, fishing for the reason Echizen had come to him here.

Echizen looked out, as if he’d just noticed the panorama in front of them. Eventually he nodded. “It’s a lot quieter,” he remarked.

Which was certainly true, if not especially informative. Kunimitsu didn’t think he’d get any better results if he asked, outright, why Echizen was here, though. He decided to wait, and see if silence would draw an answer out.

As silence settled over them, though, filled with the distant hum of the city, and the low shush of wind through the trees, and the sharper rustle of squirrels chasing each other overhead, he noticed that Echizen’s tension seemed to be receding. His arms loosened, and folded on top of his knees. He leaned forward to rest his chin on them with a sigh. His eyes drifted half closed. It was actually very relaxing just to watch.

When Kunimitsu stood, at last, to go, Echizen looked up at him.

“Thanks,” he said.

Kunimitsu nodded a silent _You’re welcome_, though he still wasn’t at all sure what for. He wondered, as he started back down the trail, whether he would ever find out.

* * *

Echizen found him at the same place again the next week, and again the week after that. Clearly, Fuji had also mentioned Kunimitsu’s schedule, which was an unusual amount of information from someone who professed not to have the faintest idea what Echizen had wanted it for. Kunimitsu made a note to have another word with Fuji and see if he could drag whatever his friend suspected out of him. Echizen certainly showed no signs of letting on. Each week he arrived a little after Kunimitsu, and came silently to sit beside him, and didn’t say a word unless Kunimitsu asked him something. Despite the continuing itch of curiosity, his presence was restful.

Normally that only happened after they had played a particularly hard match against each other.

By the end of the first month, in spite of Fuji’s annoyingly steadfast refusal to speculate on why Echizen came to find his erstwhile captain, at the top of a modest cliff overlooking the city, every week, Kunimitsu thought he might have begun to understand. The clue came to him when he realized that he was finding it relaxing to watch Echizen’s edginess soften, each visit.

Echizen’s tension lessened when he was with Kunimitsu.

Which seemed to indicate that he was under quite a bit of it, Kunimitsu reflected, watching Echizen lean back on his hands to look up at the quarreling sparrows. He had pressed Echizen to do and be many things, over the past four years, but _at ease_ was not one of them. Kunimitsu faced a dilemma, if he wanted any more of the particulars, though. Echizen was nobody’s fool, and, if Kunimitsu asked more pointed questions about sources of stress in his life, would understand that Kunimitsu had noticed both the tension and its easing.

And then Kunimitsu would be obligated to either accept Echizen’s presence, and his reliance on Kunimitsu, or object to it. To date, he had avoided doing either.

Kunimitsu sighed, silently. When he had been Echizen’s captain, reliance had been reasonable. Team members relied on each other, and the captain carried an extra share; that was simply part of the position. Kunimitsu had accepted the responsibility, and, in fact, passed it on to Echizen to good effect. Now, though…

Kunimitsu had chosen to go all the way through college before he entered pro tennis. He had no doubt that Echizen would chose to go professional after high school. He was sure they would meet again, professionally, but their paths had diverged. Was it good for Echizen to still follow him so closely?

Unfortunately, perhaps, Kunimitsu chose that moment in his reflections to look again at Echizen’s eyes. They were bright and peaceful, a distinct contrast to their tightness a few weeks ago. Kunimitsu knew that he wasn’t going to deny Echizen that peace without a more significant reason. He had never been particularly good at leaving Echizen to his own devices. Ryuuzaki-sensei had teased him about it. On the bright side, he supposed, that did mean that he was free to press Echizen for details. Prime suspects first, since he knew Echizen, while a good student, did not have the kind of effortless time of his classes that Kunimitsu or Fuji did.

“How has your second year been so far?” he asked.

Echizen looked at him sidelong. “School’s been fine,” he said, eventually.

Kunimitsu gave Echizen his sternest look, the one he had learned from his grandfather. If Echizen knew what Kunimitsu wanted to find out, he wasn’t about to play twenty questions with the boy. Mischievous amusement flashed across Echizen’s face before it faded away, and he looked down at the ground.

“It’s calm, here,” he muttered.

Kunimitsu raised a brow. “Just here?” he asked. Meaning, not anywhere else in Echizen’s life right now?

Echizen nodded. Kunimitsu sighed out loud, this time. Specific problems were so much easier to deal with. There was nothing to be done about something this general; nothing but wait for Echizen to work it out on his own. Kunimitsu didn’t doubt that he would; Echizen wasn’t the sort to stand still and be run over. It was one of the things Kunimitsu had always appreciated about him. And if Echizen needed that little extra bit of familiarity and stability, while he worked on it, Kunimitsu supposed it was acceptable for him to provide it.

Echizen was watching Kunimitsu from the corner of his eye.

“It’s good to have someplace like that,” Kunimitsu allowed. He was hard pressed to suppress a smile when Echizen blew out a quiet breath and relaxed again. He didn’t think he had ever known anyone as artlessly expressive as Echizen was once he let his shell drop. It had always amused him that Echizen opened up faster to his opponents than to anyone else, and that the only reason Echizen had been so free within his team was that each of his teammates could also give him a hard time in competition.

Altogether, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that it was he Echizen had sought out.

* * *

Kunimitsu had expected Echizen to become a bit more talkative, now that he knew his presence was accepted. But he was as silent as ever, seeming perfectly content to pass each Tuesday evening without exchanging a single word. In retrospect, Kunimitsu did recall that Echizen had always been fairly reticent, off the courts. It was just that his unbridled insolence and provocations _on_ the court tended to overshadow the fact.

He also found that Echizen was visiting their outcropping even when Kunimitsu wasn’t there. While Tuesday was the one day of the week Kunimitsu was assured of having enough time free to take the bus, walk up and still have long enough to just sit for a while, he did try to get out for a decent walk someplace besides the city parks a few times a week. This trail was his favorite, when he thought he’d have time, and Echizen seemed to have taken to it also, to judge from the several occasions Kunimitsu found Echizen there before him on odd days, sprawled on his stomach so that he could look over the drop-off. When that happened, Echizen only looked over his shoulder and smiled before setting his chin back on his crossed arms.

That expanse of weather-smoothed stone became a shared place without Kunimitsu being able to pin down just when it happened. By the middle of summer, though, he knew this to be the case, and so it was simply courtesy that led him to speak.

“I won’t be here, next week. I’m leaving a bit early to get to some of the trails further out from the city.”

He had rather expected Echizen to make a face, or otherwise indicate his disgruntlement. He did not expect the abrupt and seamless blankness that accompanied Echizen’s nod of acknowledgement. Perhaps it was his surprise at an expression so alien to Echizen’s manner that prompted him to say what he did next.

“You can come along, if you’d like.”

Echizen’s eyes lightened, as he blinked at Kunimitsu, and Kunimitsu found himself relaxing to see the opaqueness replaced by faint surprise.

“It would be all right?” Echizen asked.

Kunimitsu reflected that he hadn’t realized just how for granted he had come to take Echizen’s openness, with him. It would bear some thought, whether he should let himself rest against it to the extent his own reaction indicated he did. For now, though, he had made the invitation, and could hardly withdraw it.

“Yes,” he answered.

Echizen nodded. “I’d like to come.”

Kunimitsu told him the time the bus would leave, and wondered whether it was deliberate, this talent Echizen had for getting people to act outside their usual parameters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryouma comes to terms rather abruptly with the reason he's clinging to Tezuka.

Ryouma glanced up at his companion, and then back down at where his feet were going.

At first, it had been a matter of chance, really. Ryouma had missed his captain’s presence, which always made it easier to be calm. And, when Fuji-senpai had shown up to watch his brother’s match against Ryouma at the district preliminaries, Ryouma had been reminded and asked, in passing, how Tezuka-san was. Fuji-senpai had cocked his head and given Ryouma a long look.

And then he’d told Ryouma to go find out for himself, and given him quite specific directions on how to do so.

When he’d seen Tezuka-san, sitting at the edge of that overlook, Ryouma been startled at the wave of relief he felt. It had reminded him of his first year of junior high, and how he’d felt when his captain had returned to the team. Which was strange, considering that Tezuka-san wasn’t his captain anymore and certainly hadn’t returned. Quite the contrary.

Dissecting his own reaction had helped distract Ryouma from the reaction itself. Ryouma knew perfectly well that he had always depended on his captain, for a challenge, for an example, for a little peace in all the craziness. He had just thought he’d done a better job convincing himself that he had to stop, now they were on different tracks.

Apparently not.

Apparently, the craziness now consisted mostly of Tezuka-san’s absence. Ryouma had never been much for denial, so, having reached this conclusion, he had chosen to keep visiting unless and until Tezuka-san indicated he wasn’t welcome. He had been a little surprised that Tezuka-san hadn’t done so yet, not even after he seemed to realize why Ryouma was there. Ryouma had been even more surprised when Tezuka-san invited him along on a trip that fell on Visiting Day. Not that his surprise had kept him from accepting.

All of which had led him to here, hiking up the side of a mountain. A fairly gentle mountain, of course, this was no hanging-from-ledges affair. Though, Ryouma reflected, that could be fun, too, at some point. Still, he had to keep his mind on what he was doing if he didn’t want to take a spill. Which he had no intention of doing, especially in front of Tezuka-san. Ryouma took some pride in being able to pick up new skills quickly, and had every intention of becoming competent enough to justify being invited along _next_ time, too. So he kept an eye on where Tezuka-san was placing his feet, and how he shifted his weight to keep his balance on the slope.

There was something rather soothing about the activity, actually. Unlike the vast majority of athletics Ryouma had undertaken, there was no real competition, here. He was pretty sure that a huge chunk of rock covered in trees had no interest in defeating him; it was just there. The challenge, here, was… himself.

Maybe that was why Tezuka-san liked it.

This did not, of course, stop him from glaring at Tezuka-san’s back, when he crossed a washed out bit of the trail with one long step. Just because Ryouma accepted the fact that he would always be fairly small and compact did not mean he appreciated it when tall people flaunted their extra centimeters. When Tezuka-san paused and looked back, though, as if to offer his shorter companion a hand over if it was needed, Ryouma merely cranked up the glare a few notches and sprang over on his own.

Taking comfort from Tezuka-san’s presence was one thing. Accepting _help_ for something like this was completely different.

The lightening of Tezuka-san’s eyes said that he probably knew just what Ryouma was thinking. Ryouma raised his chin and smirked back. He was pleased when this won a curl at the corner of Tezuka-san’s mouth, before Tezuka-san turned back to the trail.

When they finally came out of the trees, it was almost a shock. Ryouma thought that, if he took another few strides, he might step into the sky. It must be absolutely incredible at night.

He didn’t realize that he had said that last out loud until Tezuka-san turned to look at him, brows slightly arched.

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed, quietly.

Ryouma turned back to the sweep of blue and air over them, and breathed out a soft sigh. He wondered if he could possibly manage to come up here at night, some time, and see it. He remembered seeing the night sky through thin air, a few times, away from city lights. Personally, he thought Japanese schools won, hands down, when it came to field trips, but he’d been on a few good ones back before they’d moved, too.

Ryouma tipped his head back to follow the path of the sunlight across the sky until he swayed and Tezuka-san touched his shoulder to steady him.

* * *

When Fuji-senpai turned up at the next Seigaku match, Ryouma didn’t think it was quite as coincidental as the last time. It didn’t soothe his suspicion at all when Fuji fell in beside him, as the team was leaving.

“Good game,” he complimented Ryouma.

“Thanks,” Ryouma told him, a little warily.

“Your play has come back on-center again, I was glad to see. You seemed a little distracted earlier in the year.”

Ryouma made a noncommittal noise, and took a sip of water; he knew what Fuji-senpai was talking about. He was also glad that irritating, prickly, talking-to-himself babble inside his head had faded. It wasn’t as thought he had ever been able to tell what was wrong.

Fuji-senpai smiled at him, affectionately. “Who would have thought your little crush on Tezuka would last this long, or affect you so much.”

Ryouma nearly inhaled a mouthful of water. “My _what_?” he choked.

Fuji-senpai chuckled at him. “Did you really think no one noticed?” he asked.

“I’m not… it isn’t… what…” Ryouma bit back further sputtering, and took a very deep breath. It didn’t help all that much. Fuji-senpai was watching him narrowly, and finally made a surprised sound, brows arched.

“You didn’t realize it? Well, there’s one over on me,” he said, cheerfully. “I thought you had.”

Ryouma pressed his lips together and stalked on, trying to ignore Fuji’s presence beside him. He did _not_ have a _crush_ on his captain. Ex-captain. On Tezuka-san. He respected Tezuka-san, of course; Tezuka-san was his best challenge, and the one who understood best how Ryouma felt about the game. Tezuka-san was the one who had always known where Ryouma was trying to get to, and he’d put his own game on the line, more than once, to help Ryouma get there. And of course Ryouma loved playing against him; it was an incredible thrill to go all out and never be sure who would win, and Tezuka-san’s game was beautiful just to watch, never mind actually stand in the middle of and reach out and touch. And, yes, so it made Ryouma feel better to be around Tezuka-san, anyone whose life was as crazy as his would be grateful for a little peace and quiet. And if he just happened, just circumstantially, to have noticed that late-day sun turned Tezuka-san’s eyes bronze, that didn’t… it didn’t…

Ah, hell.

All right, fine, but that still wasn’t a _crush_!

Ryouma glowered at the still smiling Fuji from the corner of his eye, and was suddenly struck by a horrible thought.

“Fuji-senpai,” he said, slowly, “you’re not…” he nearly choked on the word, “you’re not _matchmaking_ are you?”

Fuji-senpai laughed. “Of course not!” He smiled benignly at Ryouma. “I’m just watching to see what happens.”

“Has anyone ever told you you have bad hobbies?” Ryouma grumbled.

“At times,” Fuji-senpai allowed, serenely.

Ryouma sighed. Yes, that was Fuji-senpai, all right. Not precisely comforting, but a whole lot better than the alternative. “Have you mentioned anything to Tezuka-san?” he asked, crossing his fingers.

“Certainly not,” Fuji assured him. “It’s none of my business.”

Ryouma snorted at the magnitude of this bare-faced lie, but was reassured. If he was sure of any one thing, now that Fuji-senpai had kicked him over the edge of enlightenment, it was that he wasn’t saying anything about this to Tezuka-san. Daydreams were probably no longer avoidable, but that didn’t call for him to make a voluntary idiot out of himself.

* * *

A week later, Tezuka-san asked if he really wanted to see what the end of that trail looked like at night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tezuka finally loses his battle to stay detached.

Kunimitsu had come to the conclusion that, if he wanted to know what was going on with Echizen, he would need bait. He no longer had the authority to demand an explanation. Or, at least, if he did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to use it, or even know about it. With no institutional roles surrounding them, any authority he still had with Echizen would be personal. This was a time when Echizen should be growing beyond that. If Kunimitsu had done his job properly, Echizen should not think of Kunimitsu as his captain for much longer. He could only hope that this time together, outside of a shared school and team, would help and not hinder the process.

Which brought him back to the question of bait, because seeking an accounting from Echizen without offering in return would definitely not help. This did not mean that Kunimitsu was above choosing a place and time to his own advantage. For example, the side of a mountain after sunset and before moonrise, when it would be dark enough that Echizen, who was very good at deciphering subtle, non-verbal cues, would not get more from Kunimitsu than he intended to give. It also helped that Echizen seemed absolutely entranced by the sky, and might answer him without thinking.

So. “It’s good to be doing something that requires an effort,” he offered, quietly. “After last year, the Seigaku University tennis club doesn’t offer much of a challenge.”

Echizen made a considering noise. His shadowy outline leaned back a little further. “I bet,” he said, in a judicious tone, “that Fuji-senpai says you should have chosen Rikkai University, instead.”

“He does,” Kunimitsu acknowledged, dryly, giving information to draw information out. He had not expected that Echizen’s sense of humor would make it easier.

“I would say I’m glad I won’t have to worry about that,” Echizen said, thoughtfully, “only the last time I said that to Dad, he laughed. He wouldn’t tell me why, because he likes being annoying, but I bet I know. He thinks he’ll be the only real challenge for me.” Echizen sniffed. “You’d think he’d never seen the rest of you play.”

Kunimitsu held back his smile out of habit, even in the dark. It was good to know that Echizen had taken so much assurance from that very first lesson. It did sound, though, like tennis was not the source of Echizen’s apparent agitation, this year.

“You never held back, with me, Tezuka-san,” Echizen continued, more softly. “Right from the first.”

“Yes,” Kunimitsu agreed.

“So why are you holding back now?”

It seemed that Echizen didn’t need to see him to gather more than Kunimitsu expected. He switched to bluntness. “If I asked you, directly, why you came looking for me, would you tell me?”

The moon was rising, and he could see Echizen’s head turn toward him. “Yes.”

“Why would you answer?” Kunimitsu asked. Before he asked anything else, he wanted the answer to that.

“Because you never held back,” Echizen replied, matter-of-factly. “You’ve always been honest with me. Doesn’t that mean I should be honest, too?”

Silence filled the space between them, until Kunimitsu spoke again. “We should be going.” Before the revelations got out of hand.

Ryouma stood and stretched. “You didn’t usually tell everything,” he said, “but what you did say was the truth.” It was bright enough, now, to guess at the spark in his eyes as he looked at Kunimitsu and smiled.

* * *

Kunimitsu visited his mother as often as he had an hour or two free. He felt guilty, every now and then, that he had moved out and could no longer shield her from his father and grandfather’s bickering, but she had laughed at his hesitation and shooed him off. She had even helped him pick out an apartment, and given him her largest, most luxuriant spider plant, the most unkillable live housewarming gift possible. When neither of the other men of the family were looking, she had also tucked _Requiem et Reminiscence_ in among the fronds, with a wink. Realistically, he knew quite well that, while he had learned how to wear a stern and reserved face from his grandfather, it had been his mother who taught him the serenity he needed to wear it easily and well. Tezuka Ayana needed no one to shield her.

His mother examined him over the edge of her teacup. “You’re looking more cheerful again, Kunimitsu. That’s good. Is the tennis club turning out better than you thought?”

“Not particularly,” Kunimitsu answered, frankly. It was generally quite useless to even attempt to keep secrets from his mother.

“Ah. Have you met someone who drags you out of your routines and keeps you from boring yourself stiff, then?”

Case in point. Kunimitsu smiled into his own tea. That was actually a reasonable description of Echizen. It was what made him both infuriating and intriguing to deal with.

“I suppose so,” he said, and gave in, with a sigh, to his mother’s prompting look. “Not someone new. One of my team from last year.”

She smiled at him, affectionately. “They did seem to make you happy, both times you’ve led them. I think you liked helping your team win as much as you enjoyed your own victories. You enjoy being needed, Kunimitsu.”

Kunimitsu consulted the depths of his teacup. He knew his mother was right, and yet…

“Kunimitsu?” she asked, gently. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if it’s good for Echizen to need me, still,” he admitted. “I did my best to help him advance, to stand on his own without any shadow over him.”

“Do you think you failed?” his mother asked, brows raised.

Kunimitsu opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Did he truly believe he had failed? That his own shadow lay over Echizen, now? He held that thought up against the memory of Echizen grinning and prodding at him; of Echizen’s blazing eyes on the other side of a net; of Echizen leaning back on his hands, relaxed, tracing the arc of the Milky Way across the sky.

“I know you don’t want to be like your grandfather that way, and overshadow where you only wished to teach,” his mother said, softly. “You should trust that you won’t; and, perhaps, trust this young friend of yours, too.”

Kunimitsu felt tension unwind from his shoulders, and smiled, leaning forward to brush a kiss against her cheek.

“Thank you, Mother.”

* * *

What still astonished Kunimitsu, sometimes, was the fact that Echizen seemed to trust him. Enough to have fallen asleep, beside him on their sunny rock. And, while Kunimitsu was not normally much troubled by protective impulses where Echizen Ryouma was concerned, the black hair fanned untidily across Echizen’s cheek was making Kunimitsu’s fingers itch to tuck it back.

It could, of course, just have been his own ingrained neatness. But Kunimitsu somewhat doubted that was all it was.

Ryuuzaki-sensei had asked him, once, why he took such trouble for Echizen. At the time, he had answered simply that he was Echizen’s captain. It was true enough. But it wasn’t all the truth.

Part of it was, indeed, the desire he felt to see any of his team play at their best, and beyond. Part of it was almost aesthetic; Kunimitsu couldn’t think of any other way to describe it, much as he didn’t want to have anything in common with such a clearly disturbed individual as Jyousei’s Hanamura-sensei. The shape of Ryouma’s potential had been stunning, and it would have been a criminal waste not to do everything possible to bring it out.

Part of it was harder to explain.

Perhaps it was the casual courage that pursued its own goals unflinchingly and didn’t care what the rest of the world thought. Perhaps it was the exultation in the game itself, that thought nothing of losing beyond “next time, I won’t”. Perhaps it was the willingness to drive on beyond reason.

Perhaps it was those things that Kunimitsu recognized because he had felt them, too.

Perhaps it was just that Echizen was the only one who could make Kunimitsu work quite so hard to bite back a smile or a sigh when Ryouma glanced up with that troublemaking gleam in his eye.

He glanced at the angle of the sunlight, and then at his watch. Whatever the whole truth was, it was getting late and they should both be going. “Echizen,” he called, quietly, “Echizen, wake up.”

Echizen stirred, and made a faint grumbling noise. “Echizen,” Kunimitsu said, more firmly, leaning toward him.

Echizen’s eyes opened a little, still hazy. He blinked at Kunimitsu and reached up a hand to touch his face, as if to see whether he were really there.

Kunimitsu held quite still.

Echizen’s fingertips slid down his cheek and across his mouth. It was the last touch that seemed to wake Echizen up all the way, because his eyes abruptly snapped fully open and shock raced through them. He snatched his hand back and started to roll away and onto his feet.

Kunimitsu’s hand flashed out and closed on his shoulder, and Echizen froze.

Kunimitsu nearly sighed at himself. That impulsive move had presented him with a nice predicament. If he had let Echizen go, it was quite possible that they would have silently agreed to ignore this little occurrence completely. But, no, he had to give in to his urge toward confrontation and make things more complicated. He really had let his control lapse around Echizen, this year.

Echizen was still frozen, half way up on one elbow, looking back at Kunimitsu from the very corner of his eye. Kunimitsu could feel the tension in him, poised to go either way, waiting. Well, as long as he’d gone this far, he might as well keep going. It was not natural to either of them to stop halfway. What was that European phrase? _In for a sheep…_ He’d been mildly appalled when he had looked up the historical source of that saying, though no more so than he had at some portions of his own country’s legal history…

He recognized that he was stalling, and that was not acceptable, no matter how far he’d let his self control go. So, then. He tugged on Echizen’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Echizen let himself drop back to the stone under them and look up at Kunimitsu. Still waiting. And Kunimitsu’s mouth twitched.

He lifted his hand to Ryouma’s face and tucked back the unruly strands of hair that had been distracting him earlier. Ryouma blinked at him.

“I’ve never known anyone else with such a talent for getting me to act on impulse,” Kunimitsu observed. The pleased curl to Echizen’s lips at that piece of information pulled a smile out of Kunimitsu in answer, and he let it. He needed to make sure of one more thing, though. “I’m not your captain any more, Echizen.”

He didn’t know if Ryouma heard the hope or the question under that statement, but Echizen nodded. “No, you’re not,” he said.

The surety in his voice soothed Kunimitsu’s last reservations, and he leaned down and touched his lips to Echizen’s. A light brush, another, and then Echizen reached up and wrapped his arms around Kunimitsu’s shoulders and pulled.

When Kunimitsu regained his balance, only a hastily thrown out hand was keeping his full weight off Echizen, and one of his legs was between Ryouma’s. Ryouma grinned, looking insufferably pleased with himself, and leaned up to steal a third kiss.

“You certainly recover quickly,” Kunimitsu told him, and shifted until he could wind an arm around Echizen and pull him tight up against Kunimitsu’s body. He took advantage of Ryouma’s quick breath to offer a more serious kiss, and Ryouma answered readily, opening his mouth against Kunimitsu’s. His arms tightened around Kunimitsu’s back, and when Kunimitsu pulled away Echizen made a noise both disappointed and annoyed. Kunimitsu laughed low in his chest.

“Your enthusiasm is gratifying,” he said, straight faced, and Ryouma glared at him, “but I have no intention of carrying on outside on a rock, however isolated.”

Echizen made another grumpy noise, but his expression agreed. Which was good, because Kunimitsu’s knees were becoming quite definite about the ‘on a rock’ part of the statement. The uncertainty lurking in Ryouma’s glance up at him, though, prodded Kunimitsu to an offer he really hadn’t intended to make so quickly.

“Would you like to come back to my apartment with me?”

Used as he was to seeing it under other circumstances, the brilliance of the look Echizen returned stole Kunimitsu’s breath for a moment. It was the brilliance that made Echizen such an irresistible lure and goad and challenge on the court, and Kunimitsu resigned himself to the knowledge that he had just welcomed all the interest and chaos and trouble and thrill that Echizen trailed after him like a too-long scarf into yet another part of his life.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to worry about that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tezuka and Ryouma achieve some closure.

Ryouma was entertained by Tezuka-san’s apartment. Most of it was meticulously neat in an absentminded sort of way. He was willing to bet that Tezuka-san put things back in their assigned places without ever really thinking about it. So he had to wonder just who had supplied the huge, untidily sprawling spider plant that hung by the sliding door to the modest balcony, or the equally sprawling jade plant a short stand underneath it.

Actually, he’d bet on Fuji-senpai for the jade plant; Ryouma had seen one like it overrunning Fuji-senpai’s windowsill in a twining riot of tendrils. But Fuji didn’t use the same jab twice very often, so there must be someone else who thought Tezuka-san’s life could do with a bit less order. At least two people, then, who would probably approve of him, Ryouma thought, knowing that the grin taking over his face was likely a dead give-away to his thoughts.

“You look like you’re contemplating making my life difficult,” Tezuka-san remarked, behind him.

Sure enough. When Ryouma turned, though, he could feel the grin turning into something less certain. He’d spent quite some time, by now, sidestepping his physical attraction to Tezuka-san. Having Tezuka-san standing in front of him, close enough to feel his body heat, was a little… disorienting. It only got moreso as Tezuka-san’s expression softened; normally it took a good deal more work on Ryouma’s part before that happened.

It was actually better when Tezuka-san gathered him close. Easier to let his body’s response rule. Ryouma moved closer still, fitting himself against Tezuka-san, stretching up to press a kiss against his mouth.

The expression of Tezuka’s body changed, at that, tautened. So much the better–less time to waste thinking. Ryouma buried one hand in springy, honey brown hair and licked, lightly, at Tezuka-san’s lower lip. Tezuka’s arms tightened around him, hard enough to drive the breath out of him. Tezuka caught Ryouma’s gasp in his mouth, lifting him up and kissing him deeply.

And then Tezuka-san drew in a long breath and started to loosen his grip.

“Don’t let go,” Ryouma protested, pressing close.

Tezuka-san stilled. “Most people like to breathe,” he pointed out.

“Breathing is nice,” Ryouma agreed. “But when you hold me that hard I know I’ve really reached you.”

After a moment, Tezuka’s arms closed snugly again, and Ryouma looked up with a smile. Tezuka-san was studying him, mouth curved with a faintly rueful quirk at one corner. “I never expected you to make a vocation of that hobby of yours,” he said, softly.

“Why not?” Ryouma asked. “Don’t you know what you’re like, when you open up a little?” Tezuka-san’s brows asked the question, and Ryouma chewed on his lip, trying to put it into words. “It’s like water,” he said, at last. “Underwater, it’s everywhere, wrapped all around you, and it seems perfectly calm until a current comes along. And then you can’t do anything to keep from moving with it. That’s what you’re like when we play for real. And then, when you forget to be reserved, it’s like the surface of water–choppy or bright or ticklish when you put your hand in the way of the waves.” He couldn’t say what look there was in Tezuka-san’s eyes, now. It wasn’t one he’d ever seen before. But it made him think of something else, and he slid both arms over Tezuka-san’s shoulders, laughing up at him. “And I don’t know what it’s like, yet, when you touch someone, but I was hoping to find out.”

Tezuka brushed fingers through Ryouma’s hair and down the side of his neck. “Are you sure?” he asked, deep voice a little huskier than usual.

Accustomed, from years of listening, to hearing the things Tezuka left unsaid, Ryouma tipped his head and gave him a slightly exasperated look. “I’m not afraid,” he said, definitely. “And I like this, and I want to feel you.”

Tezuka’s arms tightened fiercely around him, again, but his lips against Ryouma’s were soft and light, coaxing faint, breathless sounds from him. When one of Tezuka’s legs pressed between his, Ryouma moaned, arching up against Tezuka and pulling him down to a more insistent kiss. When Tezuka’s tongue still only flirted with his, Ryouma nipped at it, and then made a pleased sound as Tezuka’s low laugh vibrated down the whole length of his body.

“Bedroom,” Tezuka murmured.

Ryouma growled, but let go long enough for them to cross the apartment without tripping. He would have pounced on Tezuka again, there, but Tezuka closed his hands over Ryouma’s shoulders, brushing his thumbs across Ryouma’s collar bones. Ryouma caught his breath, and stood, curious. Tezuka stepped back and began undressing, without either haste or hesitation. By the time his shirt slid off his arms, only to be caught and draped, neatly, over the closet door, Ryouma’s breath was coming short. Which he couldn’t help thinking was a little ridiculous, considering the number of times he’d seen Tezuka one pair of boxers short of naked, but there it was. It wasn’t until Tezuka stripped off the last cloth, and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, dropping his folded glasses on the bedside table, that Ryouma understood. It was in Tezuka’s eyes when he met Ryouma’s gaze, in the hand he held out to invite Ryouma close again. Ryouma had said that he wanted to see Tezuka open. Tezuka was telling him that he could.

Ryouma came and took Tezuka’s hand in both of his, stroking his fingers over the palm and hearing Tezuka’s breath catch in turn. And then he stepped back a little and reached for the hem of his own shirt. He couldn’t quite manage to meet Tezuka’s eyes, but he felt them on him like a beam of sunlight–something hot and tangible where it touched.

When he stepped back to the bed, Tezuka’s hands passing up his back smoothed the awkwardness away, and Ryouma leaned into him with a sigh, relaxing. This feeling, skin sliding over skin, was almost familiar. It felt like those times, when they played, that they both saw each other clearly, the times when they each knew what the other would do, when they… touched. Ryouma eased into the familiarity, straddling Tezuka’s legs so that he could press closer. Tezuka’s hands swept tiny shivers up his legs, over his ribs, threaded into his hair and drew Ryouma down to a kiss that made him glad he wasn’t supporting his own weight.

Tezuka’s mouth muffled the sound Ryouma made when those long hands slipped back down and between his legs. Tezuka let Ryouma’s sudden surge against him tumble them both back onto the bed, and Ryouma found himself sprawled over Tezuka, looking down at the smile lurking at the corners of Tezuka’s mouth. Shifting to twine his legs more comfortably with Tezuka’s, Ryouma paused and sighed. He could feel that Tezuka was hard. He rocked against Tezuka, gasping a little, both at the hot wash of sensation and at the soft groan it pulled from Tezuka. Tezuka’s fingers kneaded against his rear, spreading him open, stroking him, and Ryouma tensed a little. He saw both heat and deliberate restraint as Tezuka looked up at him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Tezuka asked.

Ryouma shook his head. “Not this.”

Tezuka’s mouth softened further, and he wrapped his arms around Ryouma and rolled them over, kissing Ryouma gently until he was breathing deeply again, moving with Tezuka. “Tell me if you don’t like this, then,” Tezuka said, reaching over Ryouma’s head. “Some people don’t.”

Ryouma felt Tezuka’s slick fingers nudging against him, and shivered a little, pulling Tezuka down to kiss him again. One finger pressed, circling, and slid into him. It was… odd. Ryouma couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. The fact of it, there, was very strange, and yet the sliding movement might be nice. He frowned.

“More.”

He could feel Tezuka’s lips curve as they brushed his neck. A second finger pressed in, and Ryouma snatched a breath. Oh… that… yes, that was better. The stretch felt good, and the slide was firmer, now. He liked that. He wound his arms around Tezuka, arching up into him. “Mmmmmh. More,” he murmured.

Tezuka kissed him, hard, and Ryouma shivered again at the strained control in it. A third finger slid in between the first two, and the sound in Ryouma’s throat was harsher this time. The feeling was more intense, and he spread his legs wider, pushing up into it. Warm. Not rough, but… something like it. He held on more tightly, and returned Tezuka’s kisses with abandon.

Tezuka was letting his control go, too. When he knelt back and pulled Ryouma up with him, Ryouma found himself held almost as hard as he had been earlier, and moaned against Tezuka’s mouth. Now he could say what it was like when Tezuka touched someone. It was like the pull of a wave going out, drawing your feet out from under you and pulling you into the water. And Ryouma was perfectly willing to go.

“Tezuka,” he breathed.

Tezuka slipped around him and drew Ryouma back against his chest, straddling his knees. Ryouma smiled at the arms closed around him.

“You’ll be all right like this?” Tezuka asked, softly.

“Mmm. Yeah,” Ryouma sighed. It would be nice to watch Tezuka’s eyes, because he would bet that they were burning just a little wild. But he wanted more to be held, right now. It kept him from completely losing his breath as Tezuka pressed into him. He did grab for the headboard, though, because this was far more than Tezuka’s fingers had been and he was shaking by the time Tezuka’s hips met his. Tezuka’s hold on him tightened, soothing, mouth brushing the nape of Ryouma’s neck. Ryouma relaxed, slowly, panting a little. It felt good, just… intense. When Tezuka drew back and thrust in again, though, it pulled a sharp sound from him. That pressure, stroking inside him, was hotter, now, sharper. A new edge surged through him with each thrust. It shuddered down his nerves like heat waves off the street in summer, and Ryouma found himself moving, rocking back into Tezuka, straining against that hard slide.

Tezuka answered him, moving faster, hands stroking down Ryouma’s body, between his thighs, fondling him, lifting him up to meet the driving pace. The deep voice in Ryouma’s ear was rough, now, breathless over his name. Ryouma stretched into the tight hold and hard caress, voiceless with the weight of sensation running through him, driven into him, stroked out of him. It rushed down to a hot point and exploded through him, raking down him over and over and over.

Tezuka’s movement against him had a dreamlike edge for a minute, before he gasped sharply against Ryouma’s neck and caught him closer, stilling. A distant corner of Ryouma’s mind decided it was probably oxygen overdose. Most of him was too busy drowning in lax warmth to care. Eventually, Tezuka loosened his hold and drew away, letting Ryouma down to the bed and leaning over him for a slow kiss.

A last, small, shiver passed through Ryouma at the open smile Tezuka wore, and the laughing, rueful, affection in his eyes. He reached up and sighed, pleased, as Tezuka gathered him close again.

* * *

Being Tezuka’s lover, Ryouma had decided, was not significantly different from being his friend or his opponent. Well, except in the obvious sense, when Tezuka brought Ryouma home and laid him down on the bed, or pressed him up against the wall, or came up behind him at the door to the balcony and slid a hand…

Ryouma realized that he was getting distracted, and probably rather flushed, and refocused on the rack in front of him. The point was, they both still had their own lives, and their lives were still running along pretty separate tracks, and they had a limited number of times and places to meet. And if Ryouma wanted to keep going along on Tezuka’s hiking trips, which he did, Tezuka chose places with gorgeous views, Ryouma needed shoes that were not sneakers.

First, though, he might just need to read the manual of hiking boots to figure out what the heck all the alleged benefits listed on various tags meant.

A clerk popped up at his elbow. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Only if you can translate this stuff,” Ryouma told him, absently, squinting at phrases like ‘external heel’ and ‘mid cut’.

“That is part of my job,” the man said, easily. “Are you just starting out hiking?”

“I am,” Ryouma specified, “the person I go with isn’t.”

Actual interest replaced the professional smile. “Ah. Do I take it that you cover some more demanding trails?”

Ryouma had to stop and think about that. He suspected Tezuka wouldn’t think they were demanding at all, and he wasn’t having any trouble keeping up. But he certainly didn’t see any families on the trails Tezuka seemed to like best. “Yes, some,” he said, at last. “Probably more, later,” he added.

The clerk looked thoughtful. “Most of my customers who do serious climbing prefer the lower cut shoes, but more ankle support is a good idea when you’re still building up to that. If your friend likes rougher trails, the traditional, high cut boots will likely stay just as useful as time goes on.”

Ryouma had no intention of inviting injury. “Boots,” he agreed. “If he ever breaks out the climbing ropes, I’ll come back then.”

The clerk grinned. “It sounds like your friend really has you hooked,” he commented.

Ryouma choked down a laugh at the image this brought to mind. Though if their excursions ever turned to fishing, he was bringing a pillow. Still…

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he allowed.

* * *

Ryouma rummaged in one and then another cupboard before giving up and standing in the middle of the kitchenette, glaring impartially at all of them.

“Do you reorganize your cabinets instead of biting your nails like a normal person?” he called into the living room.

“Yes,” Tezuka answered quite calmly.

Ryouma transferred his glare. Tezuka’s sense of humor could be a little abstruse sometimes, but Ryouma could recognize perfectly well when he was being teased. “Good to know that,” he returned briskly, “so where did you put the glasses this time?”

“Beside the refrigerator, of course.”

Ryouma fished out two, muttering, and brought the filled glasses out to the couch. “Serve you right if I dumped this on you.”

“Mm,” Tezuka said, agreeably. He was obviously wrapped up in the textbook on the table in front of him, and Ryouma had to stifle two separate impulses. The first was to spill a few drops of ice water down Tezuka’s neck to get his attention off the physics reading that he really didn’t need to devote such concentration to. The second was to get between Tezuka and the table, and kiss the stern line of his mouth into something softer. The entertainment value of one was about equal to the other.

Ryouma restrained himself for the time being, and set one drink down by the open textbook before taking his own and sprawling on the huge floor cushion that had put in an appearance a few weeks ago.

“Why _are_ you bothering with this?” he asked. “It isn’t like you need a college degree to go pro, and if it’s professional tennis that you want you’re wasting four of your strongest years.”

Tezuka gave him a long look. “It’s debatable whether they’re my strongest years,” he said.

Ryouma narrowed his eyes. He was used to Tezuka’s roundabout conversational methods, but he wasn’t in the mood to be patient today. Tezuka sighed and closed his books.

“I’m planning on a career in pro tennis, yes. But what about after? If I decide I don’t want to teach, this,” he waved at the books and papers, “will give me more options. That’s all.”

Ryouma thought about that. It was true, his dad was pretty much useless since he didn’t play or teach; well, not anyone but Ryouma. He really couldn’t see Tezuka lazing around doing nothing but collecting dirty magazines.

Really, _really_ couldn’t see it.

“I’ve never really wanted to do anything else,” he mused. “Not since…” he broke off, not quite prepared to say out loud _not since I first played you_.

Tezuka’s eyes lightened. “I didn’t really think you had,” he agreed, a laugh running under his voice.

After a moment of hesitation, Ryouma came to kneel between Tezuka’s legs and comb his fingers through Tezuka’s hair. “You’re coming, then?” he asked, quietly. “You’ll be there?” He felt a little silly asking Tezuka Kunimitsu, of all people, for that reassurance, but still…

Tezuka’s arms wrapped around him, tight enough to make him gasp. “I will,” he murmured in Ryouma’s ear.

Ryouma relaxed in that grip, content to stay there for as long as Tezuka wanted to hold him.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tezuka and Echizen settle in with each other.

Kunimitsu stood at the back of the humming spectators and observed the various recriminations and celebrations of Rikkai’s and Seigaku’s teams with some amusement. He had company, as he always did when he came to watch matches between these teams. Both Sanada and Yukimura had come, today.

What amused Kunimitsu most was watching Echizen and Kirihara, engaged in a discussion as vigorous as their just finished match, climbing the stands toward their respective seniors without paying the slightest attention to anyone else. This included several of the scouts who made bids for Kirihara’s attention, only to bounce off his impenetrable focus on Echizen.

“…supposed to be two years ahead of me, not two behind!” Ryouma was saying, in an aggrieved tone, as they came into earshot.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Kirihara told him. “I’m going to be the one bored out of my mind for a year, until you catch up.”

Ryouma waved a dismissive hand. “No you won’t. Momo-senpai is going straight on. And,” in the tone of someone being fair against his every inclination, “Atobe-san is already in the pro circuit.”

Kirihara made a face. “This is supposed to be encouraging?”

“He’s a good opponent,” Ryouma said, “and it’s the best we’ll get until _they_ graduate. Two years!” he glared impartially at Kunimitsu, Sanada and Yukimura all.

Sanada declined to comment, merely giving Kunimitsu a look that asked him to control his unruly kouhai. Yukimura, though, smiled.

“Well, after all, university is where we’ll find the majority of our favorite opponents, isn’t it?” he teased, gently.

Ryouma eyed him dourly before giving Kirihara a look remarkably similar to the one Sanada had directed at Kunimitsu. Kirihara snorted and stepped around Ryouma to place himself between Echizen and Kirihara’s erstwhile captain. Ryouma’s mouth quirked, and he abandoned that front, apparently satisfied, to saunter over and stand inside Kunimitsu’s personal space, gazing up from under his cap with a gleam in his eye. Kunimitsu stood his ground and looked back with, he hoped, sufficient coolness to indicate that he had no intention whatsoever of being tempted into a public display and Echizen could just put a leash on his mischief right now. Judging from Ryouma’s grin, at least the basic idea got through.

Yukimura had a hand over his mouth.

“Your team is getting ready to leave,” Kunimitsu pointed out to Ryouma. “You should join them. I’ll see you later.”

That promise seemed enough to placate Ryouma. “Sure thing,” he agreed, easily, turning back toward the stands. Kunimitsu was under no illusions that Echizen had actually chosen to shelve his mischief; the bright look he tossed over his shoulder was enough to prove otherwise. Kunimitsu couldn’t quite keep an eyebrow from twitching up with rueful resignation.

“Okay, now I’m really impressed,” Kirihara declared. A glance showed him watching the two of them, wide eyed.

“Akaya!” Sanada rapped out. Kirihara directed an obvious _Well, aren’t you?_ expression up at him.

Yukimura appeared to be having a coughing fit, which was almost convincing, but his sparkling eyes gave away his amusement.

Echizen grinned at Kirihara and strolled down to the Seigaku team. Kunimitsu shook his head. It should be an interesting evening. “Sanada. Yukimura,” he nodded to them. Sanada nodded back, and Yukimura recovered enough to bid him a goodbye that wasn’t too very choked.

As he walked away, Kunimitsu heard Yukimura chiding Kirihara, in his soft “social voice”, for the breach of manners.

“Yes, Yukimura-san,” Kirihara said, tone repentant. “But, really! I never thought, in a hundred years, Echizen would actually _catch_ him…”

Kunimitsu chuckled to himself. That made two of them.

He remembered the comment, later, though, as he lay on the floor of his unlighted living room, reclining on one of his two floor pillows, and stroked Ryouma’s bare shoulder. Ryouma purred and settled closer against his side, tucking his head down against Kunimitsu’s chest.

He had been more or less pounced on, as soon as the door was closed, and clothing was strewn haphazardly around the room. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, that was a sock hanging from the jade plant. Not that Kunimitsu had been at all a reluctant participant. But it reminded him.

“Were you chasing me, all that time, Ryouma?” he asked, ruffling his fingers through the sleek, dark hair under his cheek.

Ryouma shrugged, and twined himself still more closely around Kunimitsu. “Not really,” he answered. And then he lifted his head to give Kunimitsu an impish look. “Not any more than you were chasing me,” he added.

Kunimitsu chuckled out loud. “Fair enough.”

Which meant, he reflected, gathering Ryouma just a bit tighter against him, that they had been heading toward this more or less since they set eyes on each other.

Fair enough.

**End**


End file.
